Jessica Potila, staff writer, The Mining Journal

NEGAUNEE — Many women can recount in vivid detail the moment they first realized that others might view them as having become “older.”

I am one of those many women.

For me, it happened a dozen years ago near the entrance of a corporate owned service station in northern Maine. I had just emotionally cartwheeled right across my 40th birthday when a kind and gentle fellow about a decade younger than myself unwittingly clued me in.

The gentleman, who had experienced a brain injury as the result of a car accident, was a frequent visitor to this gas station where he would shuffle up and down the sidewalk for hours offering compliments to all who approached the storefront, including myself.

Although potentially inappropriate, nobody who entered the store doubted that this man was honest in his assessments.

“You are a pretty girl,” he would say. “I like your blond hair.”

On this particular autumn day, I was wearing a modest tan and gold floral print blouse.

He expressed his appreciation for a young female who entered the store ahead of me.

“Your brown eyes are so beautiful,” he told her.

As he held the door for me, he offered a different kind of compliment.

“Maam, that is a lovely blouse you are wearing,” he said. “The flowers are very nice.”

I thanked him and went about my business, but I hated flowers that day.

It was the first time anyone had referred to me as “Maam.”

I returned home and threw the flowery shirt in a 30-gallon trash can next to the garage.

It took several more years and countless disappointing yet polite public exchanges with people of all ages before I fully accepted that my pre-“Maam” days were forever gone.

I called my cousin Kristi to discuss what could possibly become of us as we approached our older years.

We reflected on the lives of her mother and our aunts on the Potila side. How much time did we have before we were truly considered “old.” Were we ready for a short, sensible and undyed haircut like our beloved Auntie Laura?

Auntie Laura turns 83 years-old in July. She volunteers as the treasurer of her Ishpeming church and by writing grants to help local families affected by cancer.

She was married to our Uncle Lee for nearly half a century until his death, and together they provided a sense of security and stability for their grandchildren and the many nieces and nephews who visited their home throughout the years.

Auntie Laura does not care what some nice guy on a gas station sidewalk, or anyone else, thinks of her appearance or about how old she is and there is a freedom in that.

I want to be that free.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Jessica Potila is a staff writer at The Mining Journal. She can be reached at 906-228-2500. Her email address is jpotila@miningjournal.net.